A Heart-to-Heart with a Bench
by VictoriousPeople
Summary: - Maybe coming to this place wasn't so bad after all. Sure, he couldn't face his nightmare like he wanted to, but there was something peculiarly refreshing about sitting in the rain. One-Shot. Post war. #ssmonth - day 30: It All Comes Back to This / Genres might be a little off.


**A Heart-to-Heart with a Bench**

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He looked up to the crescent moon and watched as ragged clouds made their way around it. He watched as they hurried to get away from the lurid celestial body as fast as possible, careful not to touch it. He almost laughed at the lonely moon above his head. Almost. Instead, he stretched out his left arm and placed his palm against the dark of the night as if trying to wrap his fingers around the pale source of light. Dark bangs obscured his vision as the unforgiving wind around him picked up, carrying the heavy scent of decaying leaves - the scent of late fall. Against his better judgment he tried to inhale deeply, feeling the familiar stab of pain in his chest as he did so. He coughed heavily, his breathing momentary growing shallow, as he brought his left hand down and placed it on his bare chest. He hated being breathless. He hated feeling this helpless. He hated the feeling of weakness that nestled itself in his chest as goose bumps spread across his skin. He hated feeling cold.

He felt his lungs relax again and his breathing become more even – still short, but considerably less painful. He looked at the rocky path underneath his feet with narrowed eyes. Oh yes, he hated a lot of things, but he hated that path the most. His bare feet shuffled across the cold stones as chuckled darkly. Being able to feel again wasn't as bad as he thought it would be, even if it was hate that he felt. He came to a halt as a familiar object entered his peripheral vision and turned to his right.

"I wonder…what happened to her the morning after…" he said, slowly approaching the white bench, "I'd love to hear what you have witnessed." Carefully, he sat down on the bench and put his palm against the cool, white marble. His muscles ached as he tried to shift into a comfortable position. After a few futile tries he gave up and simply slumped down until he was practically lying on said bench. He closed his eyes as he pressed his cheek against the cold stone and trembled - whether from the cold surrounding him or the cold inside his chest, he didn't know.

"Fucking talk…Damn it," he whispered closing his eyes.

_Look at yourself talking to a fucking bench_, he thought and laughed curtly.

"To think…she slept on this thing," he said and brought his arms up to shield his head from the wind. He remembered the last time he sat on this bench. It was just for a few seconds, just to make sure she would be okay, and just enough time to place a soft kiss on her forehead. It still made him feel awkward whenever he thought about it.

Hearing footsteps he hid his face with his arms and waited for the nightmare to begin. His ears picked up the rumble of thunder somewhere in the distance as the fresh scent of rain invaded his aching lungs. He bit down on his lower lip, the urge to go back to the warmth of his hospital room overwhelming. But he stayed. He needed to face his nightmare.

"_Why are you prowling around here in the middle of the night?"_

The voice of his younger self drifted towards him, cold and distant.

"_I knew you'd come this way…if you were to leave… So I just waited here… "_

He knew if he removed his arms from his head and opened his eyes now, the sound of footsteps would vanish.

"_Get out of here… And go back to sleep..."_

He clenched his teeth, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"_Why won't you say anything to me? Why do you always keep so quiet? You never say a single word to me…"_

His breathing became fast and shallow again, but not due to physical pain like moments before.

"_I told you; I don't need your help… Don't try to look after me."_

_Moron._

"_No matter what, you always hate me, don't you…"_

His hands came to shield his face from the heavy raindrops that descended from the thick, black clouds above him. _When did it start raining?_

"_You remember, don't you?"_

His eyes snapped open as lightning illuminated the darkness around him. He struggled to catch his breath, every new intake of air shorter than the previous one. He curled up on the bench ignoring the incoming headache, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of his soaked, black pants on his cold skin, and ignoring the rising bile that slowly made its way up his throat. He brought his arms around his naked torso as the rain started to pour down harder and coughed in hopes it would clean his chest of whatever was sitting there, holding his heart in a death grip. He didn't know why this nightmare still affected him so much, especially since he had done and seen much worse things in his life.

_But that's the night it all started, isn't it?_

He cursed himself for coming to the bench in the first place.

"_You really are…annoying."_

He smiled despite the nausea that threatened to swallow him whole. Said annoying girl was probably already beating the shit out of the nurses who were supposed to watch him. After all, she had made a habit of visiting him every night at the exact same time. She would notice if he was gone.

How he managed to break out of his room was a mystery, even to him. But he was here now, and he tried to shift his tired body into a sitting position, hoping that the trees around him would stop spinning for a moment.

_Maybe coming here wasn't such a good idea after all._

He knew loitering around the gates would do him no good, but he had to escape from the hospital if only for a few moments. It was suffocating, too clean, too sterile, too much of everything. Besides, at the hospital he was always watched over; like a caged animal he was thrown into a small room, hidden from the Sun and the curious glances of worried villagers. Just because he was allowed to _stay_ in the village, didn't mean that the village had _accepted_ him. Tsunade's words, not his. He could understand it though. He was a traitor. If he were in their shoes he wouldn't trust himself either. And letting such a person roam through the streets of Konoha was unacceptable… Even if said person was slowly losing his mind being locked up.

He squeezed his eyelids together and fisted his hands in his shirt, fighting another wave of nausea.

Despite the fact that she was the one to open the village's gates for him, he cursed the Godaime Hokage for not only refusing to heal him completely after he returned from war, but also forbidding every medical-nin in the damned hospital to do it either. How many times did he watch Sakura rush to his bedside, hands glowing green, only to let the healing light flicker away because she remembered that damned rule?

"It's better to let your wounds heal naturally," she would say, peeling apples for him like she did every night, "Also it's some sort of punishment for…you know. Don't be mad at Tsunade-shishou."

Every night they would go through the same ritual. She would come into his room with a few apples in her hands and check if he was asleep. She would then sit down next to his bed and rant about her day, about the hospital work, Naruto and the village, peeling apples all the while. Truth be told Sasuke was never asleep, and honestly he believed Sakura knew that. Why she choose to ignore it was beyond him. Oddly enough he liked listening to Sakura talk about her day-to-day life. It was a nice distraction from the emotional chaos in his head and it reminded him of happier, more innocent times.

"Why does she visit me every night?" he asked into the night, his words drowning in the sound of rain hitting the pavement, "Not even Naruto is that persistent."

He was aware of the moments they shared during the war. He was aware that she still cared. In fact, she cared so much that she willingly sacrificed all she had for him - a traitor, no less. And she cared enough to not leave him alone to his thoughts every night.

"But… Why?" he asked looking the bench's armrest.

He shook his head, trying to get the raindrops out of his raven hair.

Over the past few months he was able to think about everything thoroughly, which was no easy feat. Being locked inside a boring, white room there was nothing else to do but to deal with his feelings. He pondered on bonds, and power, and revenge, and relationships, and war, and his clan, and Naruto, and his nindou, and a certain medical-nin who was tirelessly peeling apples at his bedside.

_Like she did, back then._

And he thought that all those thoughts and emotions were new to him. He gave his best as he tried to understand them, as he tried to learn how to feel again. And then it hit him. All of those weird ideas occupying his head weren't anything new. They were there since his genin days; he had just ignored them for the past few years.

Noticing that the rain had stopped he looked up to see the clouds slowly dispelling, and the pale moonlight peeking through them.

"She still cares," he stated needlessly, a small smile spread across his face. Why he had said it out loud, he didn't know. But as weird as it was it made him feel good.

"After all."

The effect of the pain relievers he was given at the hospital had long since worn off, but he paid the throbbing and burning in his limbs no mind as he stood up from the bench and looked down upon it.

"You're good a stating the obvious, Traitor."

"What," he said confused as he narrowed his eyes at the bench in front of him. _Am I hallucinating, _he thought, convinced that his medication finally got to his head.

Against his better judgment he decided to speak up, "…bench?"

"No, Sai."

Sasuke spun around to watch the artistic ninja as he slowly made his way towards the Uchiha, his signature eerie smile gracing his pale lips. He blamed the throbbing between his temples for not noticing the black haired shinobi earlier.

"I suggest that we head back to the hospital before Ugly tears down the whole motherfucking building."

He smirked, "Ah."

"Follow me, Traitor."

Sasuke bit his lower lip as the pain made it hard for him to set his feet in motion. He watched his vision as it momentary went cloudy and he trained his eyes on the former ROOT member's back to focus his onyx orbs. The Hokage and her apprentice who were waiting for him at the hospital surely wouldn't be pleased with the state his body was in right now.

_Well, Tsunade won't mind it, _he thought irritated.

He questioned his decision to break out of his room for the umpteenth time that night. The prospect of dealing with an enraged Sakura sent chills through his body. Well, it was either that or the wind that grazed his damp skin.

Watching out of the corner of his left eye he saw the bench disappear from his peripheral vision. Maybe coming to this place wasn't so bad after all. Sure, he couldn't face his nightmare like he wanted to, but there was something peculiarly refreshing about sitting in the rain.

_She cares._

"If I were you I would wipe that smug grin off of my face Traitor, unless you want Ugly to tear you a new one. But keep it up if you're into that sort of thing."

But maybe it was.

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**A/N: **I hate this piece of shit, I hate it so much. But Sai, he gives me life.

But I love the title even if it doesn't make sense and I love how the story starts out nice and then spirals out of control and turns into a fucking mess.

I can't write in canon for shit and now I have proof. I should feel ashamed for posting this bUT GODDAMMIT I WANTED TO POST ONE MORE CONTRIBUTION FOR SSMONTH AND HERE IT FUCKING IS.

It's the writer's block, I swear.

Thank you for reading this and sorry I disappointed you -.-'

Never ever will I rush any fan fiction ever again. Like, ever. (Yes I will, probably.)


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